


Look But Don't Touch (Unless You Wanna Lose Your Innocence)

by fourthlinegrind (moonlightxprincess13)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Drew is hella smooth, Lingerie, M/M, Russian Club Music, dont even look at me, its pwp, kind of PWP, who am I kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightxprincess13/pseuds/fourthlinegrind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something, well, naughty, about dressing up, even in the privacy of his own room. Something that had stuck with him since the first time he laced up a corset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look But Don't Touch (Unless You Wanna Lose Your Innocence)

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY DEAR LORD. This has been sitting on my computer for nine months entitled "Slava wears pretty things and Drew fucks him". I meant to have this done ages ago but school kept getting in the way. So happy summer everyone! A huge thanks to smilelove2835 for making sure that they had their shirts off and that everything made sense, and as always to the ever wonderful Derpydrewdoughty(skinner_girl) for being my continual inspiration and putting up with my lack of writing :)
> 
> Title is from Britney Spear's Lace and Leather because I am an unoriginal fuckface. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Slava wasn’t sure how it started. Well, actually, he was. The previous Halloween he had been searching for a last minute costume for a party Brownie was hosting, and Drew insisted on taking him to some seasonal, pop-up store in a strip mall instead of just heading to Party Central like he had been planning. “Drew, I not understand any of these.” Slava had stepped out of the dressing room, a Captain America costume stretched tight over his shoulders and thighs, shield in hand.

“Well, there is something weird about you in the stars and stripes,” Drew cackled as Slava blushed, retreating back into the room. “Hang on I’ll grab something else.” Slava poked his head back out, narrowing his eyes at Drew.

“Not trust you anymore,” he called out. Drew just waved his hand in response, wandering down the aisles. He let himself stray from the men’s section after heavily debating the ’70’s pimp, instead heading to the women’s costumes. Giggling, he picked out a “frisky kitty” costume complete with ears, a tail and stick on whiskers. For good measure, he also grabbed the ’20’s flapper girl dress before heading back to Slava.

“Here, try these.” Drew shoved the packages into the dressing room, hiding the smirk in his voice. A hand reached out to grab them, pulling them behind the curtain.

“Drew what the hell, these lady costumes!” Slava’s voice was a mixture of confusion and exasperation. He threw the dress back out at Drew, but opened the cat costume anyway and slid it over his frame, pinning the tail to the back and putting the ears on. Cautiously, he pulled the curtain aside and walked out, the thigh-high stockings falling down as he adjusted the booty shorts and corset. “Well?” His face was flushed as he looked a Drew, the question hanging on his face.

Drew swallowed, the pink on his face mirroring Slava’s. “Looks good, I mean, if you like it of course.” Slava smiled and struck a timid pose, the shorts threatening to slip off over the round of his ass.

“Then I’ll get.” He retreated into the dressing room, placing the costume into the bag and pulled his jeans back on, buttoning his shirt.

 

The clock in Slava’s bedroom flashed seven thirty and he knew he had to change, seeing as Drew would be here shortly to pick him up. He stripped down, naked, and pulled on a clean pair of boxer briefs before sliding into compression shorts, having given up on the shorts that had come with the outfit. Next came the garter belt, which he had picked up in concert with the costume, followed by the thigh-highs that strained over his muscle as he clipped them in place. Slava maneuvered carefully into the corset that barely covered his chest, pulling as high as it could possibly go. Fumbling slightly, he found the bag from the second store that contained the shoes, heels to be specific, that he slipped into. The were a little uncomfortable as he trotted around his room, putting the ears, tail and whiskers in place before stopping to check himself out in the mirror on his way downstairs.

Drew’s face flushed as he watched Slava open the car door, balancing precariously on high heels and scratching at the whiskers on his face. “You, ah, you look good.” Slava smiled in response, buckling his seatbelt.

“You too,” he replied, looking over Drew’s costume, some sort of mythological character that required a hammer that was haphazardly tossed in the back seat. 

They arrived at the party fashionably late, Drew extending an arm to Slava as they made their way up the stairs. The team, as Slava had expected, responded to his costume with ridiculous wolf whistles and cat calls, his ears pinking as Quickie actually meowed at him as he passed. It took a little while to get accustomed to the attention, but after a few too many lingering glances Slava realized that he actually enjoyed it. He made a mental note to find a corset that actually fit, even if no one ever saw it. 

 

The team had just finished their morning skate at MSG and returned to the hotel, each of them splitting up for their respective pre-game rituals. Slava rode the elevator to his room with a bunch of the guys and waved them off as he keyed into his room, dropping his bag and flopping onto the bed.

After about a half an hour of tossing and turning, unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep, Slava gave up and rolled out from under the covers. Stretching his arms over his head he felt his shirt ride up his midsection, the soft fabric brushing against his toned core. Scratching the exposed skin, he strode over to his bag which was currently overflowing from his search and rescue mission this morning-his hoodie had gone missing. He rifled through the mounds of (he always packed a little more than necessary, what if someone forgot sweatpants? Or toothpaste? Or lotion?) not-so-neatly organized stuff in his bag looking for a smaller, clean-cut black pack.

Slava giggled to himself as he sat on the foot of his bed and pulled the bag onto his lap. There was something, well, naughty, about dressing up, even in the privacy of his own room. Something that had stuck with him since the first time he laced up a corset. He reached into the bag and pulled out the shoes first, a vibrant cherry red peep toe with a good five inches in the heel. Tossing them onto the floor, he stretched first briefly before launching into the bag and pulling out his outfit.

This had been something Slava looked for far and wide. He was extremely picky when it came to two things: his hockey and his corsets. It had already been a difficult task to find something that would not only fit his torso but flatter it as well. And it had certainly been tiresome, but fun, to sort through websites for hours on end and wait like a child on Christmas morning for his packages to be delivered. He unfolded the black fabric, running his fingers down the steel boning. Slava quickly ditched his shirt, tossing it on top of his suitcase. Twisting his shoulders to loosen them, he wrapped the corset around his chest and began doing the clasps together. Once that was finished he began lacing it, tightening the strings to pull his torso into neat curves, turning his masculine frame vaguely feminine. 

Slava finished the ties in a standing position, then slid his sweatpants off. He located the thong before dropping his boxers in favor of something with slightly less fabric. After making sure he was properly adjusted, Slava bent over to pull the heels on. He strutted over to the desk with the mirror, and applied a lipstick that matched, almost exactly, his shoes. Finding his laptop, Slava opened his iTunes and turned on his playlist of Russian club mixes, quite enjoying trouncing around and dancing to the rhythm. 

He was halfway through the third, or maybe it was the fourth, song when someone knocked at Slava's door. He attemted the song the laptop, calling out "one second", and opened the door before his common sense caught up with him. 

"Hey Slava, you want to go over the power plays really quickly I…" Drew had been finishing a text before he looked up, stopping mid-sentence as he looked up at Slava. A violent scarlet spread across the apples of Slava's cheeks as he stumbled over his words.

"Drew, I'm so…I mean…sorry. So sorry. Um." Crossing his arms in front of his chest and extending one arm down his abdomen, he awkwardly tried to close the door on Drew.

"Hey, no, its fine. I mean I've seen some weird shit when I lived with Trevor so whatever floats your boat man." Drew shrugged his shoulders pocketing his phone and pushing the door open wider and moving past Slava into the room. Slava shut the door and turned around, catching Drew's cocked eyebrow as he eyed the laptop, laying sideways on the bed, blasting something he couldn’t make out. He watched as a pink rose up Drew's neck, above the scoop collar of his beat-up Guelph tee. "So ah," Drew flicked his head towards the laptop and played with the fabric of his shirt. 

"Oh…I…um…" Slava shuffled his way into the room and shut the laptop, moving it to the desk. "Sometimes I…dress up.” He fidgeted in place, backing up to his bag in an attempt to find some sweatpants, or anything that resembled pants really. Drew was standing awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“For…people?” Drew’s eyes flicked over to the laptop again before they before trailed up and down Slava’s body, aware of the arousal that was pooling in his belly. Slava was in the process of standing up, pants in hand, but Drew’s question took him by surprise and he flung the pants several feet in the opposite direction. He silently cursed himself as he tried to scurry over to them.

“Uh, no, not for people. Just for fun. Like it.” The English sat heavy on his tongue before slipping off of it in a disjointed heap. He was standing on one foot, trying to slide the sweatpants on. 

“Wait!” Drew’s voice was a little louder than he expected, his hand extended towards Slava who froze him place. “I mean, if you’re comfortable.” Slava shook his head.

“No, is okay. Make Drew uncomfortable.” 

“Actually…no.” Slava stopped, yet again, and looked over at Drew, his stomach dropping and his heart pounding. “I…I like it.” Drew swallowed hard. “You, ah, you look really good actually.” Drew took a step forward, leaning in closer to Slava.

“Oh?” Slava’s face slowly broke, a coy smile spreading across it as he cocked his hips. “Drew like?” He took a step closer to Drew.

“Yeah,” Drew let his fingers run down the boning of the corset, letting his hand come to rest on Slava’s hip with the other around the back of his head. “Black and silver look good on you.” He leaned in and pressed his lips to the other man’s, kissing him deeply. Slava kissed back, his fingers tangling in Drew’s hair as he let himself get pulled closer. Gently, Drew shifted his hand to Slava’s ass as he grabbed a handful, enjoying the way the other defenseman squirmed beneath him. The pair broke apart, breathless. Drew licked his lips, smudging the lipstick that was left on his face and slipping a finger under the waistband of Slava’s g-string and and dragging it down his thigh.

“Drew, I…” Slava blushed, dropping his hands from Drew’s hair and wrapping them around his waist. Drew paused, waiting for Slava to finish his thought. “You really like?” He swallowed hard. Drew nodded, his fingers trailing down the bare skin of Slava’s leg as he plopped down on the bed.

“It’s been driving me crazy you know.” Drew smiled up at him through long lashes. Slava furrowed his brow in response, listening intently. “Since the first time I saw you in a corset, at Brownie’s party.” Drew beckoned Slava over, and placed his hands on the standing man’s hips as he spoke. “I just wanted to get my hands all over you, wanted to…” his voice trailed off as Slava pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him.

“Wanted to touch? Is all yours.” He picked Drew’s hands up and placed them on his chest, letting them run down his abdomen. “But first you take shirt off.” Letting Drew’s hands drop, he sat back on his feet. “Maybe pants too.” He smiled at Drew, who was frantically trying to get his clothes off. As he pants were being flung off the bed, Slava leaned down and kissed him, gently biting down on his lower lip. 

“God Slava,” Drew pulled back for a second, now painfully aware of the growing erection in his boxers. Slava followed his gaze and lightly ran his fingers over the outline of Drew’s dick, enjoying the way that he sucked in a breath at the touch. 

“Is okay I touch too?” Drew only nodded, watching Slava pull his boxers down and palm his dick. Slava slowly ran his hands up the length before leaning down and licking a stripe up the underside. Drew canted his head back, a low moan escaping as Slava mouthed at the head, slowly wrapping his lips around most of Drew’s length. He set an even, if not glacial pace, stopping every few strokes to tongue at Drew’s balls. 

Drew was trying hard to not buck into Slava’s mouth, his hands tangled tight in the other man’s hair. “Slava, wait, I’m gonna,” Slava just looked up at him, his dick still in his mouth, and continued to suck. “Wait, wanna fuck you.” Slava immediately pulled off and stared at Drew. “I mean, if you want to.”

“Yeah, would like very much.” Slava’s voice was wrecked as he spoke, hopping off the bed and rummaging through his bag to find lube and a condom. He tossed both on the bed with a wink, making sure he had Drew’s attention as he pulled his g-string off and let it fall to the ground, cock bobbing up to his stomach. Slava reached around intending to start unhooking the corset when Drew spoke. 

“Wait, can you leave it on?” He had ripped the condom open and was rolling it on. “If it’s comfortable.”

Slava smirked as he made his was back onto the bed, “is very comfortable.” Drew slid so that his head was on the pillows and poured the lube into his hand. Drizzling some onto his dick, he slicked up his fingers and slowly worked Slava open, his dick twitching with the little noises that were escaping from his mouth. 

“Is good,” Slava panted as Drew slid a third finger in. He exhaled as he lowered himself onto Drew’s dick, giving himself a few moments to get accustomed to the thickness before moving. Slava leaned down to kiss Drew, sloppy and uncoordinated as he rode Drew. Using his hands to hold Slava up, he let his fingers brush against the thick fabric, running them down the shallow curve that they added to Slava’s waist. The other man dropped back down, leaving a trail of soft bites from Drew’s jaw to his nipple, flicking his tongue over it before sucking lightly. Snaking a hand between them, Drew fisted Slava’s cock, his hips starting to thrust out of sync with Slava’s movements. “Drew, I,” Slava doubled over on himself, his orgasm washing over him like a white heat as he came all over Drew’s chest. It wasn’t long after that Drew was coming as well, his hips stuttering as it ripped through him. Waiting until Drew flopped back onto the pillows, Slava carefully moved, laying next to Drew. 

“Holy shit,” was all Drew could manage before kissing Slava. The other man blushed, curling closer to him. 

“I get washcloth?” 

“No, not right now. Sleep first, clean later.” Drew’s eyes were already sliding shut as he pulled Slava closer to him. “Hey Slava?”

Slava hummed in response, drowsiness overtaking him.

“You should wear pretty things more often.” Slava huffed out a laugh and tucked himself underneath Drew’s arm.

“Okay, will do.”


End file.
